


Learning Lessons

by a_la_grecque



Category: Romanitas - Sophia McDougall
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:06:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_la_grecque/pseuds/a_la_grecque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus finds out more than he expected during history lessons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Learning Lessons

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Daegaer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/gifts).



Marcus cleared his throat nervously, earning him a disapproving look from his tutor, Lycus, and a smirk from Drusus. He looked down at his paper, eyebrows furrowed.

Finally, he began to speak. “Why Sacerdos should have answered Sina’s call for help. It is my strong belief that many of the problems faced by the Empire today could have been mitigated or entirely resolved had Sextus Vincius Sacerdos offered assistance to the Sengtong Emperor to repel the Nionian incursion into Corea. If the Roman legions had-“

“Oh, now really.” Drusus was on his feet and practically shouting. “This is just too ridiculous for words.”

Marcus’ cheeks burned, but he took a breath and prepare to continue.

“If I have to share my lessons with a mere child, I should at least be spared the punishment of listening to such puerile idiocy passing itself off as historical analysis.”

Marcus’ veneer of self-control wore thin. “It’s not idiocy,” he said, trying not to let a plaintive note creep into his voice. “Just think, if Rome had offered help then Nionia might never have invaded Terranova, the Sinoans might be open to co-operation, Rome could have colonised Goshu and quashed the Nionian threat forever…”

Drusus shook his head. “But don’t you see, that’s all just… supposition with no substance, history is what it is and you can’t change that. You might as well say that…” He broke off, nostrils flaring, and stared up at the ceiling.

Marcus could only assume he was ransacking his brain for some obscure nugget of Imperial history to rub in his superiority.

“You might as well say that if the assassination attempt on Pertinax had succeeded then the Empire might have been totally destroyed,” Drusus finished triumphantly.

Marcus looked at Lycus for support.

“I think what Drusus is trying to say is that the object of the exercise was to find lessons that could be learned from the past, and what you have done is more in the nature of… imagining another future.” Years of Imperial service meant that Lycus was a talented diplomat as well as a historian.

“Exactly,” said Drusus, apparently on the verge of launching another tirade. “But then I’d expect nothing less of Leo’s son. His parents imagine all sorts of insane futures.”

Lycus cut him off swiftly. “However, I think young Marcus has made a commendable effort. I think perhaps I have some of your work saved from when you were his age, Drusus. Perhaps we could compare the two of you?”

Drusus was temporarily cowed, and Marcus seized his opportunity. “But there are lessons to be learned from it,” he said, “about the importance of acting when the time is right, that sometimes you just can’t wait and see, that you have to take chances…”

“Marcus,” Lycus said gently, “I can see you have worked hard on this, and your ideas aren’t wrong, but you have to understand that there were reasons why Rome couldn’t act. After the death of Postumus there was twenty years without a proper Emperor. Can you imagine, Marcus, an Empire where no leader lasts more than eighteen months?

Do you know what happened to them all – Titus was torn apart in the streets by an angry mob, but rumour has it every member of the mob owned a Praetorian uniform.  Caius was poisoned in the Senate itself. Marcellus fell from a window in the Imperial apartments just days after taking power. Need I go on? There are hunting accidents, smotherings, good old fashioned stabbings…”

Marcus shook his head.

“So can you understand, Marcus, why Sacerdos wanted to keep as many loyal soldiers in the Empire as he could?”

Marcus tried to picture what it would be like, so different from the comfortable and easy state of his own family dynasty. “I think so.”

“And it wasn’t just a case of dynastic tensions,” Lycus said, “The Empire was already at was in Bantae.”

Marcus shuddered. He knew all about fighting in Africa. It seemed there was a residual terror of it within every Novian.

“You can’t deny the logic of choosing to focus your energy on an enemy armed with bows and blades rather than one with firearms that are even more advanced than your own.”

Marcus couldn’t deny the logic of it, and he didn’t want to mention that whatever the logical position might be, the strategy had failed. He most especially didn’t want to think about the ways in which it might have failed, but his mind conjured up the images for him anyway – hand to hand combat in a hot, steamy forest, painted witches shouting spells and rattling bones. A trickle of sweat ran down his back.

“Not to mention Terranova.  This isn’t widely known,” Lycus’ voice dropped to a hushed whisper, “But a number of dissenters actually fled there before the Vincians started their military campaign in 2311. Twenty ships, out of Hispania. They landed in Algonquiana.”

“What happened to them?” It seemed even Drusus was interested in this little known tale.

“Nobody knows,” Lycus said. “Commander Valerius found the remains of their settlement during the Algonquin skirmishes of 2321, and from the writings they found it seemed like it had been abandoned for seventy years. As far as Valerius  and his men could tell, they left everything behind and not a trace of them has been found since. They asked the Algonquins about it after they signed the peace treaty and they said they knew nothing of it either.”

Both Marcus and Drusus were silent after this astonishing revelation.

“Anyway…” Lycus seemed a little embarrassed at this digression into what should probably be considered a myth. “This was another worry for Sacerdos when he was trying to consolidate his position, a possible new threat out of the west.”

Marcus could feel his position eroding by the second but he was drawn instead to conjuring ‘what ifs’ with the mysterious Algonquiana settlers.

Lycus carried on, determined to get the focus back on serious historical matters. “And of course you can’t just consider the political and military factors, there’s always the social element to consider as well.”

Drusus rolled his eyes.

“Do you know how many people died of plague in the Empire in the first five years of Sacerdos’ reign?” Without pausing for an answer, Lycus carried straight on.  “Two hundred million. Over half of the Empire’s population. It took decades for us to recover from that.”

Drusus yawned.

Lycus looked at him, openly showing his dislike for the briefest of moments. “Do you know what a plague victim looks like? Festering boils and pustules and, ugh, the stink would be unimaginable.”

Marcus remembered some of the injuries and illnesses his parents had talked about treating at the slave clinic they were hoping to open. He’d thought they sounded bad but nothing like as awful as this. He felt sick and faint.

Drusus was unmoved. “It wouldn’t affect us though, not here in the Golden House. There could be rotting bodies piled in the streets of Rome right now for all I care.”

“There were,” Lycus said, staring at Drusus. “The whole of Ostia was burned to the ground like a mass funeral pyre.”

Drusus held his gaze.

“Even if the illustrious Novians weren’t directly affected, they’d still have to deal with the consequences of the population decline. No one to tend the fields, no one to fight in wars. As Sacerdos had to.”

“If I were Emperor and that happened,” Drusus said, apparently forgetting that he didn’t think what-ifs had a place in history, “I’d just get some more slaves in. Put them to work, have them breed me another army. Twenty years, that’s all I’d need to recover.”

Marcus was suddenly overwhelmed with longing for the house in Tusculum, for quiet empty spaces where he could study in his own way. Most of all, he could forget there the weight of responsibility, the crushing pressure of being part of the Imperial family. And of course, he could escape his cousin Drusus. He hoped fervently that his father would conclude his business soon.

He stood up. “I’m sorry Lycus, I feel quite unwell suddenly. Perhaps it’s the heat. You must excuse me.”

“Of course,” said Lycus, “I think we’ve covered quite enough for one day. I trust it was productive.”

“Yes,” said Drusus, “I think my young cousin might actually have learned a thing or two today.

“Oh,” said Marcus, “I learned a lot.”


End file.
